Upstream
by Maura-chan
Summary: "What's 'independence' mean?" England sighed. /I should not tell him the real meaning./ Yet he couldn't bear lying to his colony. But if it was for the best... Rated T for my tendency to swear every once in while, but nothing too bad. USUK, FrUK, and FrUS. Ja.
1. Independence

"Hey Engwand?"

Arthur turned to face his colony, who was looking up at him from the dining room table. "Yes, America."

"What's this word mean?"

Arthur walked over to Alfred and looked over his shoulder. America had turned to a new page in his notebook and written a single word. Through the thin pages, Arthur could see drawings and notes.

"What's 'independence' mean?"

Panic began to rise, but England didn't let it show. He kept his voice calm and gentle. "Where did you learn that word, Alfred?"

The colony looked back down at the page, then back up at England. "I was talking to big brother France the other day and he started talking about when I get older I might want to-"

"How many times have I told you, France is a fr- bad influence."

"But what does it mean, Engwand?" Alfred always looked so young, so innocent. He didn't yet understand the power of words.

England sighed. _I should not tell him the real meaning._ Yet he couldn't bear lying to his colony. But if it was for the best...

"Independence is when a colony always stays with and relies on the larger country it is a part of."

Arthur winced as Alfred hugged and grinned at him. "Then I'll always be independent of you, Engwand!"

The little colony was so cute now, but someday he would grow up and really _want_ to be independent. Arthur knew it was just a matter of time before the cuteness and innocence was gone.

Alfred released Arthur and pushed his chair back from the table. "I'm done with my lesson now! I'm gonna go outside to the garden." He gave Arthur one of his asking looks. "Ok?"

"Go ahead."

"Yay!" Alfred quickly ran out of the room, and Arthur heard the screen door slam shut behind him.

Almost instantly England was overcome with regret. He could hardly tell America the truth now, but he felt so guilty for lying to the boy.

What kind of ideas was France filling the little colony's head with? _Ones of independence and freedom, surely. _Those were concepts America was not yet ready to learn about. _Or that I'm not ready to learn about,_ England thought bitterly.

He didn't want America getting thoughts like that into his had so early, when he was just a child and still needed a lot of help from England. In fact, he didn't want America to _ever_ think about independence. The colony would never survive on his own- and neither would England. He didn't want to admit how much the young colony had helped him already.

England was torn from his thoughts as a scream sounded outside. He tensed, then ran towards the back door. As he turned the corner, the door opened and Alfred came running in, tears streaming down his face. Arthur caught him in an embrace.

When Alfred had calmed down, Arthur asked, "What happened?"

Alfred gulped and spoke through the tears. "T-there was a- a little person and- it looked at me!" He began to hiccup. "What -hic- was that -hic- Engwand?"

Arthur was laughing now. "Oh, Alfred! There's no need to be afraid. It was just a faerie. They won't do anything to hurt you, I promise."

"R-really?" Alfred gave him an incredulous look. "I saw a -hic- fairy?"

"Yes, Alfred. It is not uncommon to find faeries in the garden. I'm surprised this is your first one."

"Wow!" Alfred's eyes were wide as saucers. "Now I wish I hadn't run away."

"Don't worry," Arthur said. "They won't leave because of one frightened child. In fact, they probably would love to talk to you."

Alfred smiled. "Really?"

"Of course." Arthur wiped away the few remaining tears. "Come on. Let's go back out- together."

"Yay! I bet I can beat you!" Alfred left go of Arthur and took off running back out to the garden. Arthur laughed and went after him, but still remembered what had happened earlier. _What will I do when he really does want independence?_


	2. Soldiers

**Hiya!**

**It's Maura-chan, da?**

**I expected to upload this chapter yesterday, but A. I forgot where I put my notebook B. We were watching TV C. I was at church till lunchtime D. I kinda forgot about it. Sorry ._.**

**So I hope you liked the first chapter of Upstream, and without further ado, here's the next chapter!**

Upstream

'Soldiers'

"Here, America. I have something for you."

Alfred looked up from his spot on the kitchen floor. Drawing paper was scattered everywhere, some with drawings, some without. America was sketching out a picture that he kept just out of England's sight, but now he stopped. "Ooh, what is it, England?"

England took a package off the counter. Alfred jumped up and picked his way through the piles of paper, sending them skittering around. Arthur carefully lowered the gift to Alfred's height, trying not to hit his right arm. It had been broken recently, when a large piece of firewood fell from the stack when Alfred was standing under it. It was pure luck that England had been able to save him.

**-flashback time-**

_England pulled back the brush and studied the face of the toy soldier he had just finished painting. It was perfect- but it had taken so long to get it that way. He carefully set it down on a drying rack and pulling open the basement door, peering outside. _

_America was stacking firewood that England had split a few hours ago. "Alfred," England called. "Are you almost finished?"_

_America pushed the piece he was carrying up on top of the stack. "Yep! I only have a couple pieces left."_

"_Good. We'll have lunch as soon as you're done."_

"_Ok!" _

_England began to shut the door, then America screamed. "America? Alfred!" He shoved the door open and stepped outside._

_It was like they were in the Matrix. Time seemed to slow down, the gigantic piece of firewood hurtling towards America's head. England reacted instantly, catching the piece of firewood with his right arm and pulling America towards him with the other._

_He could almost hear the crunch as the firewood smashed into his arm. It was a lot heavier then he expected.._

_America was crying, hugging England. "America. Are you hurt?"_

"_N-no." America rubbed his eyes. "I'm f-fine." He looked up and England, who was wincing in pain as he dropped the wood back on the stack. "But y-you're not. You're hurt, England!"_

"_I'll be fine."_

_Alfred began to cry again. "But what if you're not? England!" He hugged England tighter and continued crying._

"_Alfred. Alfred, calm down! I'll be fine. I promise." England picked America up and carried him back inside._

**-end of flashback-**

Alfred took the package and sat on the floor in front of England. He looked up at England, who gave him a single nod, then Alfred proceeded to tear through the plain blue wrapping paper, exposing a wooden box, which he opened.

"Whoa, neat!" Alfred exclaimed. "My very own toy soldiers!"

He took out the soldiers one by one and studied them. "The faces are all different?"

"I painted each one separately."

"Cool." He picked one up and grinned. "This one has a gun!"

England smiled. It was worth all the time it took to carve and paint each individual soldier, even with his broken arm. America was obviously very happy with them.

Alfred carefully repacked the box and sat it aside. "Hold on!" He turned away from Arthur and picked up the picture he had been working on. He scribbled away for another minute, then turned around and offered the picture to Arthur. "Here."

England took the picture from America and looked at it. It was a drawing of countries. Alfred has included France, Germany, Italy, Japan, China, himself and England. Beside each country was their flag. "This is amazing, Alfred. Let me hang it up."

When England returned from hanging the picture in the dining room, America had re-opened the box of soldiers and started playing with them on a battlefield he drew, but had fallen asleep with a single soldier clutched in his hand.

* * *

America wouldn't let go, no matter what England did. "Please don't leave! Pleeease!"

"Alfred, I'm not going to take that long."

"Take me with you! Don't leave me alone.." Alfred was crying again. "Please take me with you!"

England sighed. "America, I'm just running to the store. Can't you stay home alone for five minutes?"

America shook his head. "No."

England smacked his forehead with his palm. "Really. You can't sit on the floor and color like you've been doing all day? You can't last _five minutes_ alone? I've been working outside all day and you've been fine in here on your own."

"But England! I knew you were outside then. I don't wanna be left alone. Take me with you!" Alfred suddenly got a frightened look on his face. "What if- What if your arm isn't completely healed yet? And you try to pick up something heavy and you get hurt? I don't want you to get hurt, England!"

"Alfred, my arm's been fine for almost a month now. I highly doubt anything's going to happen, and bread isn't all that heavy-"

"And then what if France shows up? You won't be able to do anything cause you'll be hurt. They could capture you, England! But if you take me with you, you'll be ok, right? And you won't get hurt. See? You'll be safer if you bring me with you."

"You aren't going to give up, are you."

Alfred gave Arthur a teary-eyed smile. "Nope."

England tried to hide his smile. "All right. You can come."

"Yay!"

"But really, it won't take that long. Are you sure you don't want to just stay home-"

"NO! I'm coming with you!"

England threw his hands up. "Fine, fine. I already said you can come. Get a jacket on, it's cold out."


	3. An Empty House

**Hi hi!**

**It's me, Maura-chan!**

**Sorry this took so long to write T-T I had a new story idea(actually more like three, hopefully I'll have them up soon! :D) and all sorts of life happened.**

**But here's the next part of 'Upstream'!**

**(Also.. I'm kinda stuck now. I know where I want this to go but not how to get it there :P So any ideas would be appreciated! ^-^)**

**And without further procrastination...**

Upstream

'An Empty House'

"Two weeks, Alfred. Are you sure you'll be fine?"

"Yeah. I'll be ok."

"You know where the phone is, and there's a list of numbers next to it. You probably won't be able to reach me, but you can call-"

"I know, I know. I should try you first, but if you don't pick up, try France." America looked up from the TV. He had figured out how to set it up last week, and wasted no time getting all sorts of consoles set up. He was working his way through the Legend of Zelda franchise now. "Seriously, England. I'll be fine. It's not like I'm going to kill myself or burn down the house or something."

England gave America a concerned look. "Two weeks, Alfred. You used to cry when I left for less than an hour."

"Did not."

"Did too. Are you sure you don't want to come with me? There's always extra room at the conference hall-"

"No, England. We went over this. I'm staying home."

Arthur sighed. "I've never left you alone this long-"

"Maybe that's the problem." America went back to his game.

England paused with his hand on the doorknob. "Are you sure you'll-"

"I'll be fine, England! Geez. I'm not a kid anymore, ok?" America paused the game, sat down the controller and looked up at England. "I know you don't want me to grow up, but it's not like you can stop it. Just- deal with it, England." He stood up and hugged Arthur. "I'll miss you, though."

"I'll miss you too." America held open the door while England pulled his luggage outside.

Alfred followed him out and helped put the suitcases in the car. "I don't understand why they have to hold the meeting so far away."

England laughed. "It's not that far away, America. Only about an hour."

"Then why do you have to stay away?"

England shut the trunk. "I can't drive back and forth between the conference center and the house all week. It's a waste of time and money. Not that I wouldn't rather stay here with you."

America smiled a little. "But England. I don't know if I want you to stay."

England turned and stared at America. "...What?"

"I think I'd like to be alone for a while. See what it's like staying home alone."

"I- I see."

As England's car disappeared, pulling through the driveway surrounded by trees, America watched, turning a toy soldier around in his hands.

"I'm not sure I want you to go, either."

* * *

"America? Alfred, I'm back..."

The house was dark. The forest surrounding the house made the dark even more black, but not a single pinpoint of light appeared in the house. "If you're trying to scare me, you've done it. Congratulations."

No movement, no laughter, no grinning Alfred stepping out from one of a thousand hiding places.

"America..."

England moved slowly through the house. He saw nothing. The entire house was spotless, nothing out of place. No crumbs on the floor, no candy wrappers on the couch, no game cartridges scattered all over the living room. It was almost like America- was never there.

England went around turning on lights. With every room the darkness was pushed back- and despair settled in its place. America was gone.

"Alright, Alfred. The bloody joke has gone far enough. Wherever you're hiding, come out and stop this nonsense."

But nothing. _He'll show himself eventually._ England went into the kitchen and heated water to make tea. A piece of paper fell out of the kettle. England picked it up and read it.

It was just a word. 'In'. England shrugged, and stuffed the paper in his pocket. Probably part of a receipt or something. But when he opened the box of tea, another paper fell out. Another word. 'Pen'. England rolled his eyes. Now he was sure this was just one huge prank courtesy of one Alfred. F. Jones. When England took out a tea cup, he wasn't surprised to see another piece of paper. This one read 'Den'. Pen and Den went into his pocket with In. Inside of the sugar was 'Ce', and with the spoons was 'De'.

England stirred his tea and sat down with the pieces of paper. He arranged them on the table. _Is this supposed to mean something to me?_ In-pen-den-ce-de... England stared at the papers. He slowly rearranged them to spell 'independence'.

There was one word on the bottom of each of the papers, written so small he hadn't noticed them before.

_I skipped calling you first._

**Hopefully you got what that meant ^-^**

**If you didn't, re-read the beginning of the first half...**

**Anyways!**

**I was originally going to have America be sleeping outside o_o;**

**Then I figured I might as well get to the Revolutionary War before I die of old age :P**

**Short chapters are short.**


	4. Letters and Memories

**Hihi! Maura-chan here!**

**I am sooo sorry about how long this chapter took.**

**It's supposed to be a kind of filler chapter between the last chapter and that famous rain scene.**

**It took forever cause I didn't know what needed to happen -.-**

**ANYWAYS.**

**Again, I'm sorry, but I'll post a new chapter tomorrow/the next day to make up for it!**

**And without further procrastination, I give you...**

Upstream

'Letters and Memories'

"Amerique? What is wrong?"

France hurried over to the colony, who was sitting on a bench outside a row of shops, all of which were closed. America looked strangely calm. "Are you lost, Amerique?"

"No." Alfred looked up at Francis with a sad smile. "England's house is about a mile that way." He pointed down the street, where if you squinted, you could see the beginning of a forest.

"What are you doing here, then?" France sat next to America.

"Waiting for you. I need a favor." America stared at the concrete sidewalk.

France was completely and totally confused. "Anything. What do you need?"

"Do you remember... About five years ago... You were talking to me about- independence?" America sighed. "I can't go on being a colony forever."

"So you are breaking away from Angleterre! That is great news!"

"I never said that!" America glared at France, who flinched away. Alfred could be quite scary when he was upset. But he wasn't really upset, just playing defensive. "I- I didn't say... But- You're right. I- don't know if I want to yet, but- I'm considering it and... I'm going to need someone on my side."

"Ah, I understand, Amerique. You feel like you'll need a friend when it is over?"

America shrugged. "I guess you could put it that way." He looked up at the sky. It was a nice night, barely any clouds, and just a touch of wind.

France sighed. "I am sorry."

"Why?" America gave France a confused look.

"I can be there for you, but my country cannot help in this war until you prove yourself. They think you are still a colony with no real power. I, of course, think differently, but I do not control every movement my country makes. We are having a tough time, Amerique... There are thoughts of revolution at my home as well. But as soon as you prove you are strong enough, we will help you against Angleterre."

America blinked. He couldn't decide between being angry at France for not helping him, or being happy because he wanted to help. "I- Thank you. I'll do my best."

France nodded. "And we will be waiting, Amerique." France stood up and offered a hand to America. "You should go home, non?"

America's eyes widened. "I can't! England'll totally flip out at me. You've seen what happens when he gets mad-"

France quickly shook his head. "No no. I did not mean go back to England's home. I mean for you to go home. To _your_ home." He placed a hand on America's shoulder and gave him a serious look. "I mean for you to go to America."

* * *

The door to his office opened, and someone stepped in. A paper was placed in front of America's head, which was lying face down on his desk. He lifted it slightly, and seeing Francis standing in front of him, let it fall back down. France walked over next to him and lay an arm across his shoulders.

"Amerique. How are you?"

A muffled laugh. "Fuck this."

France laughed. "You could use some good news, yes?" A nod. "Look at the paper."

"I know what it is. Another rejection."

"You will find that this letter is much different."

America slowly sat up and looked at France, who shrugged. He took the envelope and reached for the letter opener-one that had been given to him three years ago, a gift from England. He touched it then quickly recoiled, clenching his hand into a fist and choosing to just open it himself.

The letter had golden lettering at the top, but he didn't bother reading it. He already knew what it was about and where it was from. After reading the letter he looked at France again, who was reading over his shoulder. "So you're finally going to do something about this."

"I am sorry I couldn't help earlier. You know I wanted to."

America sighed. "I know. I just- I hated to have it come to this. He doesn't understand."

"Angleterre... does not like to lose things."

America gave France a questioning look. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean once he has something, he does not like to lose it. He had you in his life, something bright in his garden of shadows. He doesn't want to lose you."

Alfred shook his head in annoyance. "That's not what this is about at all! If he seriously thinks that, maybe I should pay him a visit and explain the _real_ reason we're having this war. I mean, I don't want him to think that I hate him or something! I just-"

"Stop. Someone might hear you."

"I don't give a damn who hears me!" America shoved his chair away from the table and stood up. "I should go down there right now and-"

"No." France pushed America back down into the chair. "You can't go anywhere. Even if you don't truly hate him, even if you don't believe what is happening, you must not speak to Angleterre. It would not be good for him, it would not be good for you, and it would not be good for your country."

"Why?" America whispered. "Why do we have to do things like this?"

France sighed. "I do not know. But this is the way it must be. Fate- has an strange way of doing things."

Alfred folded the letter back up and slid it into the envelope. He turned it around, looking at the fancy gold lettering on the front, and beginning to smile, soon laughing. He opened the desk drawer and threw the letter inside, slamming it shut and laying his head back on the table. He turned to look at France, who was staring at him like he was insane. Alfred found this funny in an ironic sort of way. Insane? Him? He doubted he had kept sanity with him through the whole of the first month. Battles were tearing him apart, victories pulling one direction, losses pulling the other. He could barely think straight. It didn't help that only about a third of the population of America actually wanted this revolution to work. Another third was completely against it, and the remaining third was unsure. He was a mix of emotions because of it.

France shook his head and patted America's shoulder. "It is not all fun and games, is it." America shook his head. "But you never thought it would be." Another shake. "I thought as much- you were prepared, yes?"

America laughed, a cruel, heartless laugh. "Prepared? I want to meet one person who could be prepared for _this_. I'm losing my mind, Francis. I can't focus on one thing at a time. I can barely even hold a fucking pencil, let alone write a speech."

"I understa-"

Another laugh. "No. No you don't. You don't understand this, not at all. Just- Can you talk to England for me?"

"Talk to Angleterre? What do you want me to say?"

America waved France away, turning his head to face the other way. "Just talk to him. Find something to say."

* * *

"Angleterre?"

England looked up from the paperwork on his desk and rolled his eyes. "Francis. What do you want?"

"I wanted to talk to you, of course." France walked in and sat across from England, who gave him an annoyed look. "Is this a bad time?"

"Bad time? Oh, oh no. I'm at war against the person I used to call my brother, I'm losing men left and right, but no, this isn't a bad time. It's perfect timing, actually."

"Good. I thought perhaps you might have been busy."

England glared at France. "I am busy, goddammit! If you don't have something important to say, get the bloody hell out of here so I can work in peace! And if you _do_ have something important to say, I don't want to hear it. I know your bloody country allied with America. I don't need to be reminded of your treachery as well." England nodded towards the door. "You are headed that way, if I remember correctly."

France sighed and stood up. "I will come back later, then." He turned to leave.

"Wait- I'm sorry. Sit down, have some tea. I can take a break for a while." France sat back down and accepted the cup of tea England offered him. They sat in silence for a while, and when he had finished his tea France stood up. England smiled slightly. "I- Thank you."

France nodded. "Merci." He left England alone in the office.

Arthur stared down into the small puddle of tea that was left in his cup. "...Damn."


	5. Burn It Down

**Hihi, Maura-chan here!**

**I recently got home from vacation in Williamsburg!**

**Meaning I have a TON of ideas for this story~**

**So without further procrastination, I give you...**

Upstream

'Burn It Down'

It felt like a piece of him had been torn from his body, tossed to the ground, and rubbed into the dust.

There's no good way to describe what it's like to lose a part of yourself. Lost, broken, ruined. A vital part of him, a part of his _soul_ had been taken, ripped to shreds and let loose in the wind. A hole that couldn't be filled.

He could never forgive America for what he was putting him through. Yet... Even with all he tried to sever it, the connection between them was still there, though it grew weaker by the day.

He stood up and wandered over to the window, looking out into the pouring rain. He didn't specifically look for him, of course not, not after today. But there he was, leaning against a tree about a half-mile away, up on the hill where the battle had been fought this afternoon. His own army would been gone tomorrow, but America's, his would stay. They would be separated, this time forever. _He used to cry when I left him alone._ Yet now he wanted to be left alone- he wanted to be _independent._ England hated that word- and the rain.

"It gives me a headache," he muttered, and he wasn't sure if he was talking about the word or the rain. It could have been either, as both had the same painful effect.

An officer glanced over at him with a troubled expression. England had been pacing and talking to himself since they returned from the battle. "Sir, are you alright?"

England looked at the officer as if seeing him for the first time- like he hadn't noticed the officer was there. "Oh- Yes. I'm fine."

Which meant, of course, that he wasn't. But the officer wouldn't know that. He just nodded and smiled. "Good." There was silence for a moment- or as much silence as you can get when the rain is pounding outside. Then the officer added, "The ship is ready to return to England, sir." It was the wrong thing at the wrong time. He could feel the tears coming, so he quickly nodded and stepped back from the window, heading to the door. "I- We will leave in the morning." He unzipped the flap of the tent and went outside.

England was almost instantly soaked. He glared at the dark, intimidating clouds. _You don't scare me._ He pulled his non-waterproof jacket tighter around him, but it only served to make him colder. Luckily the chilling rain shocked some sense into him.

He turned around and went back inside. The officer barely glanced up. England sat down at his desk and picked up a pen. He froze, pen poised to write. The air in the tent was much colder than the air outside. He didn't know why.

"Sir?" The officer looked concerned again. "You're dripping wet, sir. Can I get you different clothes?"

"No." His voice was devoid of emotion. "I'll be going to bed soon."

The officer nodded, stood up, and left, zipping the tent opening behind him. England tightened his grip on the pen, then began to write.

When he was finished he read over the letter. It sounded insincere, like it was written by a computer. But it would have to do. He couldn't put any emotion into it- it just wasn't there tonight.

Any emotions left had been washed away by the rain.

* * *

**That Afternoon**

"You lied to me."

The rain continued to pour, ignoring the two people standing face to face, anger burning in their eyes. Both of them were soaked already, but neither seemed to care. They had other things on their mind.

"I believed you. All those years. I believed everything you told me. And now- I know I was wrong to trust you."

Crystal clear sapphire eyes glared at emerald ones. They stood a little more than twenty feet apart. There were small armies to the back of each, standing at attention and waiting for a command.

"I _helped_ you, and all you did was hurt me. I gave you everything I had, Britain. Why couldn't you just be satisfied? But no. You wanted more. So you did whatever you could to get more. More money, more supplies, more _control._" He paused, taking a deep breath and shaking his head. "But that's not _right._ You gave me nothing in return for what I gave you. So we got this." He gestured to the soldiers. "A war. A fucking _war._ I didn't want this. But... It's too late now. We can't go back to the way it used to be, can we? I'm not a child anymore, nor your little brother. From now on, you can consider me independent."

For a moment, they just stood there. Each was waiting for the other to make a move. What happened next was a bit of a blur- England was charging at him, his gun lowered, bayonet shining in some stray bit of sunlight that managed to get around the clouds. America reacted involuntarily, holding his gun up to block the attack, causing it to be knocked out of his hands and land in the mud a few feet away. _I could still reach it..._

Now they stood less than five feet apart, and America was staring down the barrel of England's gun. _It would be so easy to just- take it._ England wasn't as strong as America, not anymore. With every second the urge grew to just reach out and snatch the gun out of England's hand and turn the tables. He could almost feel his finger wrapping around the trigger, pulling it back, gaining his freedom-

Then England threw his gun on the ground. "I- I can't shoot you." He swore and sank to his knees, putting his head in his heads. "Why? After all I've done for you..."

America could think of a thousand things to say, but none of them seemed... Right. "You were so great... What happened?"

England looked up at him, an astonished look on his face. America just shook his head. He turned around and signaled to the officer commanding the troops behind him (probably Lafayette or Washington; he never could keep them straight).

England watched him walk off, shoulders square and head held high. He was proud of himself, and he should be...

* * *

France was waiting for him in the tent. He was smiling, which annoyed America, but he didn't let it show. "Francis. Hi."

"Amerique!" France stepped forward and pulled him into an embrace- which ended quickly because America was pretty wet. "You did very well. I am proud of you."

America wanted to smack France- or burst into tears. Possibly both. But he did neither.

Instead he laughed. Even to him it sounded fake. Of course France would notice; they knew each other too well. So Alfred decided to, once again, trust in Francis. They shared their emotions, their hopes, their dreams- he should know this.

"Amerique?" France sounded concerned. He released America and placed both of his hands on America's shoulders, holding him out so he could get a good look at him. "Are you hurt?"

"Not physically."

"Ah." France pulled him over to a couple of chairs in the center of the room and pushed him down into one, sitting in the other. He placed his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, leaning forward and looking at America with concern. "Tell me. What happened?"

"What do you think?" America ran his hand through the back of his damp hair, sighing. "Today, I- I saw a different side of myself. A side I didn't know I had. One that would have done anything to win- No, one that just wanted to see him defeated. He's defeated me so many times, and I just wanted to see _him_ be the one to fall, y'know?" _I might have won, but somehow... I still feel defeated._

France nodded. "I understand, mon ami."

Alfred smiled slightly. "Oh- I never got to say this. Thanks for the help, Francis. I couldn't have done it without you."

"You are welcome, Amerique. But you know it was not just me."

"Yeah. You and Lafayette and your whole country supported me, and I really, really appreciate it."

France shook his head, sending golden curls bouncing in every direction. "That is not what I meant. It was not only _my_ country that helped you, was it?"

"_Oh!_ I get it now. I haven't seen him around though... I kinda figured he went home or something."

France smiled. "Non, he is still here. He is leaving in the morning, like the rest of us."

"Oh. Then I better talk to him tonight." America laughed, and it sounded real this time. "Even though he can be a total jerk, he's still totally awesome."

France laughed and stood up. "Amerique, if you don't mind, I will go speak to Angleterre now. He gets terribly depressed."

America gave France a smile. "I'll talk to you later, then. Thanks again for all of your help."

"It is my pleasure, Amerique."

Once France had left, America slid off his chair and sat on the floor, leaning against the pole in the center of the tent. _He could have killed me, if he wanted. It's not because he has problems with killing people. He's done it a thousand times before. It's because it was me. Which is stupid. I'm stupid. Why didn't he just shoot?_

After a few minutes have passed, and America was sure France must be gone, he stood up and went for a walk outside.

_ Because no one can see you cry in the rain._

He didn't expect someone to be waiting for him, gun in hand, right outside the door.

* * *

A hand suddenly tapping his shoulder frightened him into dropping the cup of tea.

England spun around and glared at France. "Look what you made me do! That was perfectly good tea!"

"Why are you drinking tea this late? It has caffeine, and you already have sleeping problems."

"Maybe I don't _want_ to sleep. And how do you know that?"

France shrugged.

"He is hardly a child, Angleterre. He can make his own decisions, non?"

"I suppose," England replied bitterly. _Except when they have to do with abandoning me._

"The you can learn to see it our way, yes?"

"_Our_ way? Quit comparing yourself to my colony! He is nothing like you. Nothing! You're a despicable bloody _frog_ and he's-" England paused and swallowed the words he was about to say. "He's nothing like you."

After a moment of silence, France said softly, "And he is no longer your colony. Remember, Angleterre." He then walked away, casting a sympathetic look at England.

"I don't need your pity," Arthur muttered. But Francis was right, as much as he hated to admit it. America was a colony no longer- and would never be again.

**What is going on between France and America? (Ohonhonhon~)**

**Why did America feel like he was a different person?**

**Who is the mysterious stranger outside of America's tent? (With a freaking **_**gun**_**)**

**And what the bloody hell was England going to say?**

**Tune in next week (not really, probably tomorrow) for another thrilling installment! XD**

**~Maura-chaaan**

**P.S. Three guesses as to what the song inspiration was .-.**


	6. Foreshadowing (minichapter)

**Ok, remember that letter England wrote in the previous chapter?**

**Remember that.**

**It may or may not be important later.**

**This is a filler chapter... (Also kind of a bonus cause I already posted today)**

**It's also what you might call a foreshadowing chapter (Hence the name)**

**The reasons I added this little bit was:**

**A. It'll be important later**

**And B. I noticed a huge lack of **_**awesome**_** in most Revolutionary America fics.**

**And while I was in Williamsburg, I had the privilege of listening to a 'lecture' by Lafayette3**

**And believe it or not, he actually mentioned the Prussian guy who helped train the American troops!**

**(Made me, as a Prussia cos/roleplayer, extremely happy ^-^)**

**Also an entire room in the palace (I think it was the palace) was Prussian blue (it was the ballroom)**

**(Which also made me happy)**

**And (like in other chapters) ignore the lack of me writing out accents.**

**I rarely write out accents just cause if I do it once I ALWAYS have to do it.**

**So without further procrastination, I give you...**

Upstream

'Foreshadowing'

America jumped back, his hand flying to the pistol on his belt. "W-who are you!? I demand to know!"

The dark figure outside his tent laughed. "Kesese, I sure gave you a scare, didn't I?"

"...Prussia?" America grinned, and his hand dropped from the pistol and fell back to his side. "Yeah, you had me totally freaked out, dude. Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Ja, well, I saw you opening the door and I couldn't resist." He shrugged.

"Good thing you did... I was coming out to look for you." America went back into the tent, gesturing for Prussia to follow, which he did. Prussia sat in the exact same chair that France had been in just a few minutes ago, and America sat in the one he had been in. _Did he see France sitting there or is it just a coincidence that he chose France's over mine?_

"And why is that?"

"Well, France and I were talking, and I realized I hadn't actually thanked you for all the help you gave me with this thing. I couldn't have won without you guys supporting me."

Gilbert smiled. It was rare that he showed a genuine smile, one that wasn't mocking or taunting, but this was a rare occasion. It wasn't every day that you win your freedom. "Anytime, Amerika. The awesome me doesn't mind helping out my awesome friends."

"I forgot to tell France this, but if you ever need something, I definitely owe you a _huge_ favor. Make sure you use it before one of us goes out of business." He laughed. "Not that I think we will, of course. It would just totally _suck_ if someone died before you could get back all the favors they owed you." They both laughed, then America put on his 'thoughtful' face. "But y'know, if anyone died, it would totally be you."

Prussia shook his head. "No way. You will _so_ die first. No way the awesome me is going down before you."

"Yeah, but you mentored me here, right?"

Gilbert gave him a wary look. "You could say that, sure."

America grinned. "The mentors are _always_ the ones to die, and the ones they taught grow up to be heroes or whatever."

Prussia swore, and America laughed. "Haha!"

"Ja, ja. But I'm safe until you're a hero."

"But Prussia, I already am a hero!" He paused. _For dramatic effect. _"A hero of the people!"

If there was a wall, there would be a hole in it the size and shape of Prussia's head.

**NOW.**

**(something else to remember, HAHA)**

**Remember what America thinks up there, about Prussia in France's chair instead of his own.**

**Any ideas what that might mean?**

**Muahaha, this chapter is freaking full of foreshadowing.**


	7. Promises

**Oh, France.**

**IDK why but for some reason, whenever I imagine Revolutionary!France...**

**...I see him in a blood-covered version of his pirate outfit.**

**Which is weird and/or creepy, I know.**

**So today I had more of this beautiful tea I brought back from Williamsburg~**

**It's an awesome smoked tea, I love it :D It literally tastes like you're drinking smoke and tea.**

**I feel better when I have a cup of tea in the morning. Idk if it's the caffeine or what.**

**Mein Gott, I did a ton of research for this.**

**It may or may not be historically accurate, but I tried to make it as accurate as possible.**

**So without further procrastination, I give you...**

Upstream

'Promises'

"Dude, seriously, this is great, but I can't. We both know what'll happen if I help you." America paced back and forth, wearing a path into the floor. "I'm so sorry but it's just too soon! I've barely even started cleaning up the mess between me and Britain, and this'll just make it worse... Plus if I join in, you know there's going to be a ton of people against it."

"But there are people for it as well, are there not?"

America paused near France's desk, which he approached and sat on. Kicking his legs back and forth, he replied, "Yeah, there's a lot of excitement back home. And of course I'm excited. I'd totally like to stay here and do whatever I could to help out." He sighed. "I just can't. I already talked to the boss, and he tells me it's just too risky, dude. But I'm going to try to get him to change his mind! If I'm lucky I can get him to send some people over here to help."

"I would be forever grateful, Amerique."

"I'm not sure I'll be able to do it, though. Some people really wants us to help, and some people are totally against it. I think we should, cause we totally owe you, dude. You helped us out in our revolution, why shouldn't we help you?"

France smiled slightly, but his expression almost instantly turned serious again. "Remember, Amerique, if you do get yourself into this revolution, that it may become dangerous for your country. There are many people who are not happy with me."

America nodded slowly. "I know. I'm pretty sure that's why the boss doesn't want to put us in so early in the game, and I totally see where he's coming from."

"I understand if you cannot help."

"Oh no, I'm going to do all I can to make sure we _do_ help. I'm just saying we'll probably have to back out if it gets too messy, y'know?" France nodded. "Britain's already totally angry at you, and Prussia isn't too happy either, so I've got no idea how well this is gonna fly."

France sighed. "I do not understand why they are being so irrational. You are doing fine after your revolution, why can I not have one as well?"

Alfred shrugged. "I don't know. I don't see anything wrong with it, personally." He hopped down from the desk and quickly saluted Francis. "Imma try and get the boss to change his mind, kay? See ya."

"Au revoir, Amerique."

* * *

The door to America's study flew open and smashed into the wall. America already knew who it was, but he looked up anyways. "Hiya, Britain dude."

England didn't answer, but instead walked straight up to America and slapped him across the face. "What the bloody hell are you _thinking_!? If you even are thinking!"

"Um... What do you mean?" His face was stinging, and probably turning red, but he didn't say anything.

"France is out of his mind. He doesn't know what he's getting himself into. You don't have to support him!"

"_What!?_"

England ignored him and went on. "He doesn't know what he's getting himself into," he repeated. "It's going to be the bloody Seven Years' War all over again. Hasn't he learned that your ideas are usually stupid? It's ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. And you definitely _don't have to egg him _on!"

"I- I seriously have no idea what you're talking about, Britain."

England glared at him. "Of course you do, idiot. The bloody revolution France thinks he can get away with. Do you _know_ how many countries are already getting involved? I swear he's _trying_ to be at war with the world. He already got Prussia and Austria to turn against him, and you know those two rarely agree on _anything._ And if that doesn't tell you something, then nothing will!"

America laughed nervously. "Oh, that..."

"Yes, that! What are you thinking, helping him with this, this- This idiotic attempt at doing I don't even know what!"

America hadn't seen England so upset for a really long time. "Um, well, I'm not officially helping him, y'know. We talked about it but I can't agree to anything cause the boss won't give me permission. And I kinda don't really think it's such a good idea anymore."

England gave him a wary look. "I was told that you agreed completely agreed with him having a revolution."

"I did, but then things started to get... violent."

"Revolutions are violent." England sat down in the chair across from America's and rested his head in one hand. "Just look at yours."

"It wasn't like this. This is out of control."

England slowly looked up at America. "This really is the apocalypse."

"Uh, why do you say that?"

"Because not only do Prussia and Austria agree, but I agree with _you_. If that's not a sign of the apocalypse then I don't know what is." America laughed. "You're right. This is out of control. We have to find a way to bring him to his senses, if he has any."

* * *

"He's going through with it."

"_What!_ I thought you guys said you had this under control!"

"I want my people out of there, _now._"

"We can't do that. She's their queen."

"I don't care. Once he's gone, she's next."

"That's absolutely ridiculous. What do they have against her?"

"Well, for one thing, most of the French weren't that happy about a Austrian queen in the first place. I don't think Francis was, either."

"He told _me_ he was fine with it! Hell, he told me he came up with the idea!"

"Stop unawesomely arguing. We should come up with a plan."

"A _plan_? For what? His complete and utter insanity?"

"Nein- A plan for what we'll do when he comes for us."

* * *

"You."

France turned around and smiled at England. "Bonjour, Angleterre. What brings you here~?"

"You know bloody well why I'm here. Your bloody revolution."

"Ah, the revolution. I think it is going well, non?"

England stared at France. "_Well_? You call _this_ going _well_? There's practically blood flowing in the _streets_! Do you _know_ how many people have died? Do you have any _idea_ what's going on out there?"

"Yes, Angleterre. Of course I know what it going on. It is my country, after all."

"Then why aren't you doing anything to stop it!?" England took a step forward and shoved France. "There are people _dying_ out there and you're doing _nothing_ to stop it! This madness has to end, Francis. And I'm not telling you this as a bloody country. I'm saying this as a _person_, who sees the blind _murder_ going on out there! Open your eyes, Francis!"

France smiled slightly. He had a frightening look in his eyes- part anger, part disappointment, part insanity. "It is not murder, as you say. The people being executed are the ones who are against the revolution."

"So you don't care that people are dying, you only care they they were supposedly 'against the revolution'."

The look disappeared and was replaced with one of sadness- it was like he was an entirely different person. "I never said that, Angleterre."

"It was implied."

France shook his head. "Non. It was only implied in your mind. I care about the innocent people who die; I just do not care for the ones who deserved to die."

England sighed and shook his head. "You bloody frog- Why do I even bother." He shot France a Look before walking away. "That was a rhetorical question."

* * *

"Francis?"

Alfred hoped that by addressing France by his human name, France would know he was here as a friend, not as a country. "Are you home?"

He heard a door open. "Who are you?"

"Uh, it's me, Alfred." He started down the hall in the direction of the voice. There were random articles of clothing scattered all over the floor, like someone had mistaken the hall for the laundry room and dumped their laundry basket in the hall. "I was wondering if you were busy...?"

A sigh. "Non. Come in."

It wasn't that hard to find the room Francis was in- it was the only one with the light on and the door open. Alfred stepped in and found Francis sitting on the bed, his back to the door. "Dude, are you ok?" Nothing about what was going on with his country, just a simple visit from a friend.

Francis did not answer. Alfred approached the bed and slowly sat down next to him. Francis did not look at him or turn towards him, and spoke in a voice devoid of emotion. "Why are you here, Amerique."

"I wanted to see how you are, that's all. There's a lot of stuff going on and I was just-" He shrugged. "I guess you could say I was worried."

"Who told you to come?"

Alfred gave France a confused look. "No one. I came cause I felt like it, dude. That's what friends are for, right?"

"...Oui."

Now France turned towards America, who gasped. "Is that- Is that _blood_?" France gave a slight nod. "Are you hurt or something?"

"Non, it is not my blood."

"Then how..." In the middle of the question, America realized he didn't want to know how the blood got all over the front of France's jacket, or who's blood it was.

France looked up at America, a faraway look on his face. "It is the blood of the people, Amerique." America didn't quite understand what France meant. Did he mean he got people's blood on him, or that he killed people, or what? "So many are dying for this cause... Many people who did not deserve to die."

"O-oh." Normally America didn't get sick at the sight of blood, but this was making him kind of ill. It could have been partly because France didn't seem to care that there was blood all over his clothes. "Couldn't you... Can't you do something?"

"I have tried. It is no use." He sighed. "They wanted to know if I am against the Revolution. If I try to stop them, all they will do is try to stop me."

"What!" America looked completely and totally stunned. This was _not_ the France he knew. "You're just going to sit here?"

"I did not say that." France shot him a slightly annoyed look. "But it appears you are."

America was instantly on the defense. This was a very touchy subject, for him and for other countries involved. "I was told not to speak about that, but I'll tell you now that we are definitely staying out of this." He threw his hands up as if surrendering. "Hell, I was told it's not a good idea to even talk to you."

"If you were warned against it, then why have you come here?"

"Because dude, you aren't doing so hot. And like I said before, I was worried about you."

For a moment, France was silent. Then he smiled and gave a slight nod. "...Thank you."

**There's more than one reason I decided to include a chapter or two about Revolutionary France.**

**First, it's important to the story.**

**Second, the first of the foreshadowy bits in the mini-chapter (which from now on I will call prophecies ^-^) has started to become true!**

**[THE CHAIR. I told you it would be important.]**

**Third, I recently finished reading a beautiful book, Revolution by Jennifer Donnelly~**

**IT WAS AWESOME.**

**Fourth, I realized that, like there was a lack of Awesome, there was also a lack of France.**

**Revolutionary!France, to be exact.**

**Dudes, this is important. Not only in the story, not only in their relationships, but in history.**

**Seriously. Think about it.**

* * *

**...Holy maple.**

**Going back, I wrote three pages. Wow. I must really love Revolutionary!France or something. I should totally cosplay as him.**

**_And_ I broke my 'most-words' record. AGAIN. -dances around-**

**Au revoir~**


	8. Declaring War

Upstream

'Declaring War'

"We're declaring war."

Arthur Kirkland stared at the paper that had just been sat in front of him. "Are you out of your mind!? Why?"

"You keep doing stupid things."

"That's hardly a reason to-"

"No, let me finish," Alfred said, cutting him off. "Let's see- You're trying to stop us from trading with France, you're forcing our citizens to become part of your navy, and you're trying to stop us from expanding the country."

England sighed. "We do have good reasons for those things."

"Like you had 'good reasons' to tax us?"

"That has absolutely nothing to do with this pointless declaration of war."

America shrugged. "Sure it does! What you're doing is trying to make us a colony again. Or at least gain some power over us by restricting what we can do. We have a point here, Britain. We've won the Revolution, so we should be independent, but you're trying to change that. Think of this as a war of independence."

"A second war of independence." England shook his head and stood up, taking the paper and walking to the door. "Ridiculous." He pulled it open and stepped out. "Still, I will relay this information. You will be sorry you declared war, America." The door swung shut behind him.

"Oh, I don't think I will."

* * *

"I hear you are fighting Amerique as well, now."

"Hm. It's just a misunderstanding. We'll get this whole thing sorted out, you'll see. He didn't mean it like you think he did. It's a matter of his honor or whatever."

"Interesting. He seemed much more upset than that."

"To you, perhaps."

"Just remember Angleterre, I know him very well."

"I know him better, you frog. I raised him."

"Yes, you did. But it was I that helped him through the Revolution, was it not?"

"That doesn't mean you understand this any more than I do. He's declared war on me, not you, and the way I see it, this is just a misunderstanding and nothing will ever come of it."

* * *

The door to America's study burst open, slamming into the wall. It hit the same spot it had just a few years earlier, when England had done the same thing to the door. The small crack in the wooden door widened just a little.

Canada stormed into the room. "What are you doing!?" he screamed. He never was very loud, so his version of a shout was the equivalent of a normal person talking a bit loud in a quiet room.

America turned from the window and faced Canada. "Oh, hey bro. What's up?"

"What's up? What do you mean, _what's up_!? You invaded Canada! What's that about?"

America sat up and cracked a smile. "No need to get worked up about it. It's not like I'm going to make you my colony or something."

"That's sure what it seems like!" Canada sat down across from America and put his head on the desk. "You just can't leave me alone, can you."

"Don't worry, bro, I'm not gonna colonize you." America reached across and ruffled Canada's hair, much to the latter's annoyance. As an afterthought, he added, "Though if you wanna join more, the United States of Awesome could always use more space~"

"I'll keep that in mind," Canada mumbled. He sat up and sighed. "What is it you're calling this? Your second war of independence?"

"Yeah! Britain's being a pain and tryin' to restrict trade 'n stuff. So it's another war of independence. Hopefully the last one." He grinned. "And you're going to help, right? And then we'll help you when you have _your_ revolution!" Canada mumbled something and sank a little lower in the chair. "What was that? You gotta speak up, bro. I can't hear you."

"I said, I'm not ready to be independent yet."

"Well, yeah, but when you are I'll totally help with your war."

"Like you helped with France's?"

America's face fell. "Dude, that's cruel. I told you guys, it was too dangerous to help."

"Yeah, I know. I was just making a point." Canada straightened up and gave America the most serious look he could. "But get out of Canada, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I might have to invade again, though, if it's the only way. But I'll try to keep you out of it."

"That's not what I was asking, but... Ok."

* * *

"Britain, dude, come on. Just leave us alone already, we're not your colony anymore."

"Don't you think I know that? It's very clear you aren't. And remember, this war was not my idea."

"But it _was_ your idea to restrict our trade and keep us from expanding!"

"I'm not stopping your expansion! I don't give a damn how much land you have."

America sighed. "This is getting us nowhere," he said seriously. "It's hurting you, it's hurting me, and I think we've both got what we wanted at this point. You have the war with France to worry about, so..." He shrugged.

"You'd stop, just like that."

"Well, yeah. It's kinda pointless to continue."

England shook his head. "Somehow, I agree. It seems whatever I do to restrict your trade hurts me worse than it hurts you, and you're right, I have more important matters to tend to."

"Sounds good to me, as long as you stop demanding that barrier state. And let me keep ships on the Great Lakes."

"That's ridiculous. I need to get _something_ out of this war, and you invaded Canada already, what's to say you won't do it again?"

"I won't invade Canada. We already talked about that; we're going to restore the boundary once this is over. And you don't have any right to demand a state. Especially in your condition." America could have been talking about England's condition in war, or his condition physically. He wasn't doing well in either instance- He looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks. "And besides, you don't have that territory any-" He stopped speaking and gripped the arms of the chair. Through gritted teeth, he asked, "Britain. What are you doing?"

England looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Where the hell are you attacking!?"

"I don't know! They don't tell me everything!" America attempted to stand up but collapsed on the floor. "_America!_" England knelt next to him. "America, this is not funny. Get up right now." Alfred did not respond. "Say something, at the least." When there was no reply, he felt for a pulse, and quite easily found it, so although the other country was unconscious, he wasn't dead- yet.

England stood up and went to the door. Reaching for the doorknob, he realized his hand was shaking, and he didn't know why. It could have been a side effect of something going on in his home country, or it could have been a result of just watching his former colony faint. He pulled open the door and called for a servant. The servant, whose name was, coincidentally, Jones, helped carry Alfred to a guest room. England sat in a chair with his head in his hands.

"Will you be needing anything else, sir?" Jones asked.

England waved him away. "No, just a cup of tea if you don't have anything else to do. Otherwise we're fine."

* * *

America opened his eyes, groaned and squeezed them shut again, rolling onto his side. It felt like someone was trying to drill a hole through his head, and he could hear a voice in his mind speaking to him-

"...finally woken up." Oh. So it wasn't a voice in his head.

"What was that? I- I wasn't paying attention."

England rolled his eyes. "Big surprise there. I said I'm glad you've finally woken up."

"O-oh." America slowly sat up, pressing his hands to either side of his head in an attempt to lessen the pain. "How long?"

"How long have you been out? Oh, not too long. A week or so." Which wasn't true, but England didn't want to scare him _too_ much. In actuality it had been more than two months, and England had spent all that time worrying about whether or not Alfred would ever wake up.

America was suddenly pulled into reality. "A _week_?"

"You say that like it's a surprise."

"Duh! I've never stayed out for more than a couple days!"

England shrugged. "I've been unconscious for over a month before."

"When was that?"

"Seven Years' War," he said, like it was nothing. "How are you feeling?"

"Like hell."

"I assume you're hungry."

"No shit, Sherlock." He looked around at the room, taking in the fancy wallpaper, silk curtains, and thick mattress. "Where am I?"

"England. London, to be exact." Arthur refilled his cup of tea and left it on the saucer, wisps of steam curling on the surface and dissolving into the air. "The war ended on the 17th of February. Yesterday."

"So I missed it," Alfred said, disappointed. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I wasn't there."

America gave England a curious glance. "Why?"

"I was here, of course." He sipped the cup of tea. "Very busy with the Napoleonic Wars. I spent most of my time here in the house." _Sitting next to your bed, doing my paperwork and worrying._

"But it's over, right? We can stop pretending to hate each other?"

England feigned surprise. "We were pretending?"

America laughed. "Of course, dude. How could I hate you?"

**LOL. That last line XD**

**So I'm writing this, sitting in a library where I'm supposed to be doing school but the internet doesn't work so instead I'm reading a book on WWII. Cause I chose to. Like a hero.**

**See ya~**


	9. Bye One, Get One

**Warning: This chapter's a bit creepy.**

**Another warning: I have to use an OC, although I dislike OCs. But there's no canon Confederate States, sooooooo. -doesn't have a choice-**

**LOL the name I chose for this chapter**

Upstream

'Bye One, Get One'

_"America, Mr. Lincoln has won the election."_

_ A chill ran down Alfred's spine. "He... won?"_

_ "Yes. Abraham Lincoln is the president of the United States."_

_ He couldn't decide whether he should be excited or disappointed, glad or angry. There they were again, the extremely conflicting sides of him that showed themselves only once before, in the Revolutionary War. The emotional rift that showed just how much the opinions of his citizens were divided. "I... I don't know what I should say."_

_ "You don't need to say anything. You just needed to know."_

* * *

It had happened a month ago- Mr. Lincoln was elected. Alfred liked him- he was kind and seemed to genuinely care about Alfred's wellbeing. But he couldn't help but think that his being elected wasn't good. It was weird- Sometimes when he was talking to Lincoln, something in him just wanted to scream at his boss, although he as a person didn't want to at all. The opinions of America were more divided than they ever had been before, and he didn't understand it. He had wanted Lincoln to win because he was hoping it would mean the end of slavery in the South. Yet- he didn't want it to end. He did but he didn't. God, he hated what was going on in the Southern states and wanted slavery gone, but then again, he was fiercely against the abolition of slavery.

Now he didn't care about any of it. No, right now all he cared about was surviving the intense pain that had him practically clawing at the wallpaper. Someone had knocked on the front door a few minutes ago, but he hadn't answered it. He didn't have enough strength.

It felt like someone had sliced him open and was pulling out pieces, one by one. His breathing was ragged, short, panicky breaths every couple seconds. It was surprising that no one had woken up upon hearing his screaming.

It was a relief when he finally blacked out. At least, it was a relief for a few moments, before he realized it might mean he was dead, and he wouldn't wake up again. _Oh, God. What if I _am _dead?What am I gonna tell England?_

"You're not dead, moron."

_Omigodomigodomigod. There's a voice in my head! Go away, dude!_

"My God, you're more stupid than I thought. You're talking out loud, you idiot."

_I am? So you're not in my head?_

"No, dumbass! Open your damn eyes!"

"Then who the fuck are you...?" America blinked and stared at the person sitting above him. Alfred was lying on the floor, a blanket half-covering him. The person was sitting on the edge of the bed, reading. "And why are you in my room? What are you reading? How did you find out where I live!? Humans aren't supposed to know about the countries!"

"I'm not a human, dammit. Shut your mouth for just a minute, will you?" There was silence for a minute while the man on the bed finished reading the book. America sat there staring at him the entire time. He closed it and sat it down, then gave America an exasperated look. "Alright, hit me with the questions. One at a time."

"First things first, who the hell are you?"

He smirked. "Confederate States of America, _not_ at your service."

Alfred's eyes widened and he threw up his hands. "Whoa whoa whoa. Confederate States? Dude, there's no such thing."

"There is. If there wasn't, then why would I be here?"

"Because you're messing with my head."

The 'Confederate States' sighed. "You are _such_ a moron. Seriously, how have you survived all these years?" America started to answer, but 'Confederate States' shushed him. "If you had answered the door last night, you would know that there is a 'such thing'. If you'd prefer, you can call me Johnathan. But that's not my true name."

"When did you- How- Why are you in my room?"

He shrugged. "I could have just left you screaming in pain. But I thought hey, all we're gonna do when you wake up is fight, so I might as well help you." He grinned. His smile was creepy, and kind of evil-looking. "I've always loved to fight."

"Oh-kay... So I'm supposed to believe that you heard me screaming when no one else did, came into my room and helped me even though we're 'enemies', or so you say, and that the complete stranger sitting above me is a freaking _country_? I can't even see you that well! It's flipping dark in here."

Johnathan muttered something and leaned over America, pulling open the drapes and wincing when light burst into the room. He then sat back and let the sunlight wash over him.

Alfred stared. Johnathan looked almost exactly like him- except more muscled and tough-looking. His hair was a slightly darker blonde, but was styled in the same way, complete with the single piece of hair sticking up that Alfred could never seem to get to stay down. He was wearing a gray uniform that looked only slightly similar to his own.

"Better now?" Johnathan asked sarcastically. America started to say something but he cut him off. "Oh, and by the way, I'm slightly offended that you would call me a stranger. You _are_ my brother, after all."

A chill ran down America's spine. "...What?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, we're related."

America began to speak but was again cut off, this time by the sound of someone knocking at the front door. He stood up and left the room, telling Johnathan to "stay there and don't touch _anything_". He answered the door with a tentative "Um, hi."

"Alfred! Thank God you're alright. I thought after what happened yesterday, maybe..." America's boss shrugged. "I came over to see how you were, at any rate."

America smiled. "Thanks, dude. I appreciate it. I have some questions," he said, letting his boss into the house and leading him to the living room. They sat down on couches opposite each other. "What's this about a Confederate States?"

He sighed. "It is true, seven states have attempted to secede from the Union and form their own country, the Confederate States of America. I'm sorry for any... pain it may have caused you. There was nothing I could do; I'm not officially in office yet. But I assure you that we will have this all cleaned up in no time. The secession is legally void and there is no Confederate States, nor will there ever be."

"That's kinda confusing, seeing as there _is_ a Confederate States."

His boss shot him an alarmed look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, there's a 'human' version of the Confederate States. He's in the house right now, actually."

"A human version? You mean like you?" Alfred nodded. "There can't be. There's no real Confederate States, therefore there's no real human version."

"His name's Johnathan."

"You spoke to him?"

America nodded again. "Yeah. He's sorta rude and looks exactly like me. It's kinda creepy. When I woke up this morning he was sitting on my bed reading, and when you knocked on the door I left him there."

"Shall we see if this Johnathan is still there?"

"Why not?" They stood up and walked down the hall to America's bedroom. They paused at the door for a moment, then Alfred pushed it open and stepped in.

The room was empty.

"I swear he was here," America insisted, walking around the room, checking under the bed, in the closet, everywhere.

"I believe you, America," his boss said, taking a step back into the hall and taking a quick look around. The hall was empty as well, and all the doors were shut. He looked back into the room, where America was, for some reason, looking behind the bookcase, and asked, "Did you open the window earlier this morning?"

"The window?" He was right, the window was now hanging open. "Damn, I didn't. He must have left."

"I suppose it is better that way," his boss mused. "He's not supposed to exist. I wonder if he knows that, likely he doesn't. It would be better if you never saw him again."

Alfred gave his boss a confused look. "Why?"

"It will be easier for you when he is gone."

* * *

The darkness was closing in on him, but he could still feel Johnathan's presence. He hadn't left yet- he was probably going to stay until Alfred woke up so he could gloat about the four states he had just gained. But strangely enough, as the world faded more, he could hear the Confederate States speaking. He must have thought America was already unconscious.

"...sorry," he was saying. Alfred could barely hear, let alone understand, what he was saying. "...didn't know this would happen...you ok? America?..." He thought that he felt Johnathan shaking him, but it might have just been a dream. Just as he fell into unconsciousness another voice joined Johnathan's- a voice he hadn't heard in a while, a voice that he wished he could see the owner of.

"...going on?" it said. "Is he...?"

"...four more states seceded..."

"...be fine. Just... hold on, ok?"

He had the vague notion that the last thing said was directed at him, but he was past the point of answering, and as he slipped into the black he wondered why England was there.

**CLIFFHANGER**

**AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA**

**I decided to split this chapter into two parts cause it got long. Good for you, bad for me**

**But also good for me and bad for you, cause I get to leave a CLIFFHANGER**

**AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA**

**In case you were wondering exactly what Johnathan and Iggy were saying:**

**Johnathan: I'm sorry | I didn't know this would happen, are you ok? America?| Today four more states seceded from the Union.**

**Iggy: What's going on? | Is he alright? | America, it'll be fine. Just try to hold on, ok?**

**See you next chapter~ (AKA probably tomorrow)**


	10. Or Wherever Countries Go

Upstream

'Or Wherever Countries Go'

"Why? You know we could use your help, you depend on us, and you aren't going to help him."

"I apologize, but we can't be seen aiding a country that is fighting for the sole reason of preserving slavery! On this matter, I agree with America. Slavery is morally wrong."

* * *

"Do you have anything to write on, Alfred? I'm afraid I forgot to revise my speech."

"All I have is a couple napkins left over from lunch; do ya want those?"

"Sure. They'll work."

* * *

There hadn't been a ton of napkins and there hadn't been a ton of time, but America had still expected the speech to be longer than it was. The entire thing lasted only two minutes. Yet as he thought about it, the whole thing made more and more sense. He said that they couldn't consecrate the ground that the soldiers fought on, but that what the soldiers had done there meant more than anything they could do. _Actions speak louder than words, right?_

When he had the chance to speak to his boss, he took it. "That was a great speech."

His boss smiled. "Some people are very confused by it."

"I was too, until I thought some more about what you said. It makes a lot of sense now."

"Thank you, Alfred."

* * *

It was his turn to realize exactly what it was to be a country. Before he had felt aches and pains, little things that he barely noticed, but this, this was worse. Way worse.

A burning sensation had started in his shoulder earlier this morning, causing him to skip a meeting. He went to a park and sat on a bench for a few hours, figuring it would go away, but with every minute that passed the pain spread. It was fairly dark now. He hadn't left the park, not because of the pain, but because he didn't have anywhere to go. Unlike Alfred, he didn't have his own house. He wasn't a real and true country.

It was creeping across his chest now. The fire was making its way towards his heart, slowly taking over his entire being. _I need help. Now._

_ If you get him to help you, he'll look down on you forever._

_ If I _don't _get him to help me, _I'll_ look down on _him. _From heaven, or wherever countries go._

He had to put down his pride and find America. _Let's pray he's home._

* * *

He was lucky. Very, very lucky. He should have fallen down unconscious on the way there. _I should be dead, lying in the streets right now._

He pounded on the door. There was a light on inside, and someone- hopefully Alfred- called out. "Hold on, I'm coming!"

They weren't coming fast enough. Johnathan was leaning heavily on the railing surrounding the porch, but it wasn't enough to hold him up. He sank to the ground and sat there, breathing in quick bursts.

The door opened, and America looked out. He had obviously expected to see someone standing out there. Johnathan held up a shaking hand and gave a weak "Hi."

America's gaze shot to the Confederate States sitting there on the porch. "Dude, what are you doing?"

"I- There's-" His vision blurred as he tried to stand up, and he stumbled forwards, bumping into America, who easily caught him and sat him back down on the porch. He looked up at Alfred, pain so visible in his eyes. "Is it always like this?"

He had fought so hard to become a country, only to realize he didn't want to be one. He wasn't strong enough to survive this every time he fought a war. The Confederate States wasn't strong enough on his own. If only he had realized, before he caused thousands of deaths all across the nation- the United States, all unified, like they were meant to be. He caused so much pain, and now he was just throwing it all away.

"No, it's not," America replied. His eyes were cold and calculating. _He deserves what's coming to him_, a voice told him. _He never deserved to live._ "That is what it feels like when something that never should have existed is coming to an end."

Johnathan shivered. The burning sensation began to fade, and his breathing became slow and shaky. "I- I can't apologize for what I've done." He paused, and shook his head. No, he wouldn't apologize. It would bring him lower than he already was. "Never mind, that, I won't apologize." Some kind of rage, an anger that he hadn't shown before, rose up. "I don't regret anything I've done. I'll never regret anything. This was to show you-" He stopped in midsentence, and coughed into his sleeve. A strange coppery taste filled his mouth. There was a red stain- blood- on his jacket sleeve now. He took another shuddery breath. "It was to show you how easy it is to start a war. It was as simple as this- as simple as one person. One problem. And because of it- so many lives were wasted. Adding one more to the death toll won't matter, now will it?" He grinned. His teeth were tinted pink by the blood. He coughed again. "I always- did love a good fight."

America watched as Johnathan slowly leaned backwards against the railing. He took a few more breaths, each of which shook his entire body, then his eyes closed and he ceased all movement. Less than five seconds later, the body slowly dissolved, and it was like Johnathan had never existed in the first place. Even the crimson spatter on the porch was gone. The only thing remaining was the golden watch Johnathan had been wearing when he first appeared to America. It was fitting that the watch would be the only thing left.

Alfred picked up the watch and slid it into his pocket, then turned and went inside. He would tell no one of this night, when Johnathan, his brother, had come to him for help, and he had refused to give it to him. He would tell no one of this night, when he had allowed another soul to die nameless. He would tell no one of this night, when Johnathan Jones died on his porch, never recognized, to be forgotten by all.

The Confederate States were no more.

**A short chapter compared to yesterday's.**

**I should have the next one out soon, and there's a funny story with that**

**I started writing the next chapter about a week ago, thinking it was time to post it**

**When I was almost done half of it got deleted and I was like FrUK**

**Then I realized that it was about WWI+II and I had forgot the Civil War**

**Good times, good times~**

**And I know the whole "Abraham Lincoln wrote the Gettysburg Address on napkins" thing is a myth.**

**Also, the "burning sensation" was symbolizing the burning of cities in the Confederate States nearing the end of the war. The areas burned were in Georgia and the Carolinas~**

**And then his heart (AKA Richmond, capital of the Confederate States) was taken over (by General Grant XD)**

**One or two chapters to go -dances then cries-**


	11. Heroes

**Hey-a!**

**Maura-chan here!**

**I'm sorry this update took so loooong I've been really busy. I know that's no excuse but please find it in your kind hearts to forgive me!**

**If you don't already know, Upstream is ending. This is likely the last chapter. It'll be replaced by a new story, though. I'm choosing between a few, all of which I will do at some point****.**

**Now without further procrastination, I give you...**

Upstream

''

Thirty years flew by in a haze of gunpowder and smoke. First came World War I- the Great War. A European war. A war to end all wars. A war that America had not wanted to get into. But when Germany attempted to bring Mexico into the war, he had to. There wasn't anything he could do. They were sinking American ships and threatening American land. And so the United States joined the war.

He sent soldiers to France, battleships to England, Destroyers to Ireland. It took quite a bit out of him as a person, but he knew that France and England were doing way worse than he was. In the end he was glad he had helped- if it wasn't for the many American soldiers he sent, they 'may not have won as easily', as Francis put it.

"Although it was not easy," France added. "Was it, Angleterre?"

England had not been very happy about having to call on America for help. Although America _had_ entered the war of his own accord, it didn't mean that Arthur had to be happy about it. He didn't want to admit exactly how much help America had given the Allies in this war, so he said nothing, just stood there with his arms crossed, staring out the window.

America wasn't fazed a bit. "No problem, dudes. The hero is always happy to help!"

Now England _had_ to say something. "You didn't want to help in the beginning. You only decided to enter the war when it started to affect _you._"

"Now, Angleterre. That is not polite."

"Yeah, Britain. I thought you were supposed to be a gentleman."

England shot an annoyed look at America. "I am, but certain people make it hard for me to act like one." He turned back to the window with a sigh and a shake of his head.

"We are, of course, very thankful for your assistance, and hope that you will join us in the League of Nations," France tried again.

"I told my boss about that," America said. "But you know how things are, it has to go through a bunch of people before anything actually happens."

"Let us hope that they allow you to join us."

linebreak

The second world war started before he knew it. His boss had relayed the information about the invitation to join the League of Nations, but the Senate had voted against it, and when they suggested a compromise, his boss had rejected it.

This was another war that he tried to consider as European, but it soon came to threaten him as well. Still he kept out of it, until suddenly England was the only democratic country standing between him and the Axis. France had fallen.

It couldn't have had a good effect on England. America barely talked to him now, although their relationship had improved considerably since the War of 1812. It was just that every time America called, England was busy doing something. Sure he could understand it, what with the war going on and all, but couldn't he make just a bit of time for the United States of Awesome?

But _still_ he stayed out of the war. He kept telling himself that all he would do was supply guns and the like, nothing more. But England's boss was pressuring his boss, and America knew eventually something would happen that would throw him into the war.

He almost caved during... that time. Almost. He couldn't bear to see England like that. But it did explain why England hadn't taken his calls...

linebreak

He ran through the streets, stumbling over boards and planks and the occasional body. Rubble fell from crumbling buildings, almost crashing into him as they landed. _Where's the entrance!? I have to find the entrance...!_ But it was nearly impossible to navigate now, with many of the landmarks smashed to bits now. _There. Straight ahead. That's the turn...Isn't it? No, it is. I'm sure._

He went around a wall, the only part remaining of someone's house, and turned onto the next street- then stood perfectly still. _I... I don't recognize this street at all._

He was about to turn back when something moved. A person- a child. A young boy, running in the opposite direction, towards a construction site. _It's always the construction sites..._

He began to follow the boy, then broke into a run. "Stop! Don't go in there!" The boy had already climbed into the half-built offices. He would only go as far as the doorway, wary of the steel beams hovering above, suspended by cranes. The work had been abandoned weeks ago when the attacks began. The boy was sitting on a blanket in the corner, hugging his knees and staring at England, who took a cautious step into the 'building'. "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you. Just please, stay out of here. It's dangerous."

The boy was shaking. _Am I really that scary? _No, the kid was shaking because he was crying. He wanted to help this child, but... His boss had told him to go straight to the metro, which was being used as a bomb shelter. He couldn't just leave the boy here, but his boss...

"W-what do you want?" the boy asked."Who are you?"

"I'm Arthur," England said, as gently as possible. "Arthur Kirkland. What's your name?"

The boy shook his head. "Don't matter."

"Why?"

"Don't need it anymore."

England blinked. "What do you mean?"

The boy shrugged and swiped at the remaining tears. "My mother died and my father's fightin' in the war, so he's prolly gonna die too."

"I'm terribly sorry to hear that. Isn't there anyone you can stay with? Someone in a shelter, perhaps?"

He shook his head. "Nah. Don't know any relatives. They prolly dead too. And I don't got any friends to stay with, neither."

He wished he could offer for the boy to stay with him, but the truth was, he didn't have anywhere to stay, either. He would be lucky if he made it to the shelter without being crushed by a building. But he couldn't just leave him here.

"Come with me," he said. "I'm headed to a shelter. I'm sure we could find someone to take care of you."

The boy considered this a moment, then shook his head. "My momma told me not to go with no strangers."

"And that's good to know. But this is important. Keeping you alive is important." The boy shook his head again. He wasn't going anywhere, it was obvious. "Okay, stay here then. But just so you know, the nearest shelter- the one I'm going to- is in the metro." He turned to leave.

There was a loud creaking noise, and a snap. The boy and Arthur looked up simultaneously.

One of the cables had snapped, and the steel beam that had been attached to it was plummeting towards them.

linebreak

He had tried one last time on that fateful day. He'd never forget the absolute and total panic in Arthur's voice, slowly growing fainter as the world slipped away into darkness. How even though he was clearly in no state to do it, he came to help. Although he was in a much worse state, he was concerned enough to make the journey. He could have stayed where he was, somewhere he knew was safe. But he hadn't.

Arthur had chosen him.

linebreak

They stood there and watched as the beam came down to crush them. _It could miss. It might miss._ Time seemed to slow down as they watched their death falling from the sky. _It won't miss._

He took a chance, gambled with fate. He shoved the boy out of the way, then scrambled out of the beam's path himself. The boy wasn't hurt, but he hadn't been so lucky. The beam landed on and crushed his left foot.

The boy saw it happen, saw the cold, unforgiving metal slam full-force into his ankle. The boy got up from where he had fallen and rushed over to see how bad it was, but Arthur had already sat up and was surveying the damage himself.

The pain was nearly unbearable, but he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. It slowly began to fade until it was nothing more than an extremely intense throbbing. _Being a country is a good thing, occasionally._

:Are you ok?" the boy finally asked, fear still making the words catch in his throat.

"I will be." With the boy's help, England removed the steel beam and got to his feet. He leaned heavily on the boy, who seemed unfazed by his weight. They began to move out of the area and down the street, over debris, towards the shelter. "If I start getting too heavy..."

"Don't worry," the boy replied. "You don't weigh nothin' at all. What you been eatin', a steady diet of air?"

linebreak

He remembered the phone ringing, and being surprised that someone was calling. Sure phones weren't all that new anymore, but that wasn't the point- no one ever clled him because barely anyone knew, or was supposed to know, that he existed, much less where he lived or what his phone number was.

He picked it up of course. "'Ello?"

"Alfred. I have some things to tell you-"

"_Arthur?_"

A sigh. "Yes, who else. Now, there is suspicion that-"

"Why and how are you in the States?"

A pause. "How did you know I was here?"

Alfred laughed. "You can't call me from England."

"I'm surprised you know that. Yes, I;m in your country, but you don't need to know why and you don't need to know how. What you do need to know is-"

"So how have you been? I haven't gotten to talk to you in forever!"

A much longer pause. Alfred wondered if Arthur has hung up on him. "England?"

"My state is not important right now. In a few moments there is reason to believe that you are going to be-"

Arthur was cut off by America again- but not by words this time. America let out a piercing scream. "Holy fuck, what's going on!?"

Arthur's voice was panicked. America has never heard him sounding like this, all flustered and concerned. "Alfred? Alfred, are you alright?"

He kept talking and asking questions, trying to get America to answer, but the pain was too much. Alfred dropped the phone and fell to the floor, soon falling unconscious.

linebreak

He had woken to clean sheets and a bed, a steaming cup of coffee and a bright morning sun. Arthur had been there, calmly sipping a cup of tea. Once Alfred was fully awake, Arthur explained that there had been an attack, made by Japan.

An attack on the United States. An attack on Pearl Harbor.

England informed him that the United States had joined World War Two.

If he hadn't been awake already, he was now. "Wait, what? And no one wanted _my _opinion on this!?"

"Why, are you against the decision?"

Alfred laughed. It kind of hurt his side, just a little. "Of course not! I just could have made an amazing case for joining you in the war!" He grinned at Arthur, finally getting a good look at him. "What the hell happened to you!?"

Arthur cracked a smile, a rare occurrence. "Don't worry about me, I was much worse a few months ago."

"But I am kind of worried. You look awful." It was true. Arthur looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, and there were still small cuts, bruises, and scrapes all over him that hadn't quite healed. "What _have_ they done to you," he mumbled.

"The Blitz happened."

"You were actually _in_ London for that? I figured they had probably gottne you out of there!" Alfred could feel the rage rising, threatening to bubble over. He shoved it back down, forcing himself to remain calm. "I can't believe Germany did that to you."

"You and I both know Ludwig did not have much say in the matter. It is not our place to make decisions."

"But I'm still not just going to let this go." He struggled to get out of the bed and onto his feet.

"Alfred, you're acting ridiculous! Don't get out of that bed!" But he did anyways, and ended up falling on the floor all tangled in blankets. When he looked up, Arthur was above him shaking hid head. "I know you want to just charge straight into battle, but you can't. Your country can, but _you_ need to rest."

"But that's the same thing," he whispered. "I am my country. The United States. The hero."

"And you can be a hero, in your own way. God knows you're a hero to me sometimes." He rolled his eyes. "So although neither of us can be in an actual fight right now, they know we're there in spirit."

"We can be heroes, Iggy." America rolled onto his back and stared up at England. "We can save the day for everyone."

He couldn't help but smile again. Maybe it _was_ worth it, after all.

Maybe sometimes, like in their case...

It was worth trying to swim upstream.

linebreak

_And the shame, was on the other side  
Oh, we can beat them, forever and ever  
Then we could be heroes just for one day_

_We can be heroes  
We can be heroes  
We can be heroes just for one day  
We can be heroes_

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**Thank you so much for sticking with me to the end!**

**Special thanks to SailorCheesy for helping me stay inspired and finish first-ever multi-chapter fanfiction!**

**Keep an eye out for my new story!**


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